


Exposure

by trascendenza



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-01
Updated: 2008-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-07 14:03:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trascendenza/pseuds/trascendenza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>This is what Brendon comes to Jon for: the feeling of solidity, of being grounded.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Exposure

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [bottom!Jon meme](http://seanarenay.livejournal.com/447183.html)

Brendon's hand splays in the arch of Jon's back, palm pressing down, fingers widening and finding purchase in the groove of his spine. He's breathing, just barely, the cold Chicago air coming in through the window hissing between his teeth.

Jon's holding onto the headboard, his head dropped down, chin to chest, knees spread wide on his comforters, anchoring the two of them down. This is what Brendon comes to Jon for: the feeling of solidity, of being grounded, of having something to hold onto even as heat coils up in the pit of his stomach and the muscles in his back twitch. There's movement—slide, shake, back and forth, wood slamming into plaster, blanket twisting under knees—but the two of them are in synchronization, Jon speaking in quiet cadence, _Brendon, Brendon, man, feels so good, feels so good._

Wind gusts in through the window Brendon insisted on keeping open, and gooseflesh rises on his arms, thighs; he leans forward, hand slanting to the base of Jon's neck, where he holds and doesn't let go, not when the heat extends outwards from the pit of his stomach in a fast, messy flare, not when, moments later, Jon's murmurs become broken and incoherent, _God, Brendon, God, can't, I'm going to, oh, God._

Only when the tremors have subsided into muscle memory does he let go, to crawl into the steady and welcoming warmth of Jon's arms, to feel the press of Jon's lips on his cheekbones and his calluses rubbing up and down Brendon's arms, soothing away the cold and pulling the blankets over them both.


End file.
